Shrine to Hestia, March 17th


I’ve started an actual daily practice: lighting candles and giving coffee or tea (whatever my morning beverage is) to Hestia (who receives the first offering every day, traditionally, and the last offering every evening — I haven’t done that, not sure if I will; spoons, etc). I don’t say anything. It’s a silent ritual. That may be because I’m currently battling a major depressive episode and I’m finding it very difficult to speak.

I’m keeping Her shrine where I do my morning ritual of drinking ALL THE COFFEE. This is partially because then I’ll remember to give Her an offering, and partly because space for altars and shrines is at a premium in my new place (currently Aphrodite is sharing with my meditation altar) — one, because I am sharing this place with my partner and need to respect his [atheist] space; two, because I am now hypercautious about what is in the main living area of the house — only what I am comfortable with other people potentially seeing. Guests, TV/internet/phone people, the landlords. This means what books I have in the living room, what I have set up in the way of shrines and altar — all needs to be carefully planned, and whatever else I’m not comfortable with most people seeing stays in my office/the guest room — the only people who will be staying with us will be close enough to know of my religious leanings. Aside from guests, my office is pretty much off-limits to everyone, including my partner (for the most part), and the door will be closed whenever we have people over.

The Hestia shrine I have made inconspicuous enough, I hope. I’ve never actually had to be inconspicuous with my religion, so this is…new, to say the least. The other religious or semi-religious things out in the main area of the house are my ancestor altar, which is basically a bunch of pictures of dead people and animals and some of their personal effects, my Tara wall-hanging, my drum, interfaith prayer flags, and my Thangka — all of which can be explained away by my being a free spirited hippie Buddhist who misses zir grandparents and values peace and communication among people of different faiths. Which I am, and I do. I am just also more — and that more I don’t want to be obvious anymore. I dared, before I knew, in my youth. Now I need to learn to be silent.


Hoping to get a post up about March’s TC Blog Project topic, Calendars, soon. I might also write about my depression. I don’t know yet. I just now seem to be finding my feet back, and it’s still shaky ground, shrouded in darkness.


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